Raspberries
by Jillessa Heronstairs
Summary: And then there was five. Five people who were so intricately entwined with each other, that you might think nothing could ever tear them apart. Guess what? Anyone who thinks so is wrong. All OCs, set in the Shadowhunter world. No hate, please.


**The characters in this story aren't the normal TID or TMI characters from the books. They're all OC characters. I sort of just adopted some of them for this story. But it's the Shadowhunter World. Set in modern times. So at least that much will make sense.  
**

**Aria, Emily, and Alex are my characters, Quinn belongs to le fantabulous MortalShadowhunter, and Percy belongs to le fantastical SilverJem5. And they are both so amazballs that you should read all of their stories. Because I said so.  
**

**You might not understand this story... Just a warning in advance, if you don't want to read all five thousand words.  
**

**And then be confused as heck.**

**But look! Exactly five thousand words! **

**Because this story sort of doesn't even make sense to me. This is what happens when I write most of it at eleven at night, lying in bed, typing on Google Docs on my phone... And a little during math class.  
**

**Still... If you do choose to read this... Enjoy. **

**Please don't hate me after. **

* * *

**Raspberries**

A blonde haired, blue eyed Shadowhunter sat at a desk in her room, frantically scribbling words onto papers. Her fingers flitted over the stack of papers that were yet to be completed, and she sighed, setting the pen down. Hands wove themselves into her hair, and she rested her cheek against the cool wood of the tabletop.

Papers. More and more papers.

Always paperwork to be filled out, sent off, redrafted.

She came to hate it, want nothing to do with it at all. Nothing.

But Shadowhunting just wasn't her thing. A seraph blade, whip or bow, useless in her hands.

She hated to see others injured, in pain.

Dying because of her doing.

It was why she refused to go on hunts, rather opting to be the designated 'paperwork girl'.

She closed her eyes slightly, willing for it all to just go away, for it not to bother her anymore.

A knock came from the door, the voice calling her name with a type of sudden urgency.

"Aria. Aria. Are you in there?"

* * *

Striking green eyes glared at the bartender, and his brown hair fell into his eyes as he stood up, slightly unbalanced, and made his way across the bar. The air was hot, humid as well, and he felt slightly sick to his stomach.

The moon outside shone in the night sky, the shape reflecting over the crisp night air.

That night, the one that changed him, humbled him.

It made him who he was, plainly and simply, a werewolf.

But he liked it that way.

There was less responsibility, and he could do whatever he wanted, stay out, sleep around, have fun.

Yet there was still something missing, that little piece that seemed to never be in place.

Even he didn't know what it was.

He collapsed onto the ground outside, heaving for air, the space in his lungs insatiable. The Change was forced to subside. Gentle hands clasped around his arm, pulling him upwards and to his feet, one and around his waist to steady him.

"Quinn. Quinn. Are you okay?"

* * *

The dagger hit dead center, and the brown haired Shadowhunter flipped her hair over one shoulder, brown eyes scanning the tables for another to throw, while scoffing at the easiness of the task assigned. Sweat gleamed from her forehead, yet she was not physically tired. Weary, perhaps, as well as utterly bored and mentally exhausted, but not weak or sore.

Forced upon her, she had come to hate it.

The constant rules, guidance, the people telling her what to do.

She defined herself as independent.

Sure, she was talented. It was easy to hit a target, accurately slice with a longsword, or aim with a bow.

So why was it necessary to practice?

Hunts came natural to her, as something that would come and be over fast, and no one would ever have to worry about a single thing. All in all, she despised training.

Letting out a frustrated groan, she buried the next dagger deep into the wall, having been aiming for anything except the target.

A figure stood at the doorway, watching her and silently smirking at her.

"Emily. Emily. Relax. Don't be so angry."

* * *

Silky white hair fell over the young man's forehead, as he bent over his lab table, patiently mixing a potion that he feared would never be to his satisfaction. After all, wasn't he trying to complete the impossible, creating a so called 'love potion'? His blue eyes studied the mixture, and he let his mind drift to the engraved image in his brain.

He saw the girl he admired, the one he hoped to be able to use the potion on, though he knew it technically wouldn't be very fair.

In fact, he even considered it immoral.

To play with someone's feelings, for one's own benefit.

Yes, wasn't that bad?

But then he imaged her sweet mouth, her quiet nature and kind words, and his thoughts were jumbled again, heaps of nonsense that he wished to decode.

She would never go for him. After all, he was immortal, a petty warlock who meddled with potions and to him, she was way, way, out of his league.

He suddenly reached over, grabbing the beaker that his experimental love potion was in, marching over to the bathroom and dumping the contents into the sink.

As he came back, a voice echoed through the halls, getting louder as the mystery person approached his door.

"Percy. Percy. Can I talk to you?"

* * *

A young boy with similar blonde hair and crystal blue eyes wandered the Institute halls, looking for something, though he really wasn't sure what he was looking for. His hand swept the curls from his forehead, as he padded through room to room, not sure where he was going, or where he would end up.

He was forgetful.

One that would place a paper on a table to bend down and tie his shoe, and immediately forget where he put the paper when he stood again.

And then he would walk away, in search of the paper.

But despite that, there was one person in his life, who he would never forget anything about.

His sister.

He found himself at her room, knocking on her door quietly, wondering if she was inside.

The door opened slowly and she was there running her fingers through that same blonde hair of hers, and giving him a small smile, for she was glad to see him.

"Alex. Alex. Did you lose something again?"

* * *

Paper cuts.

Aria yanked her hand back, sticking her finger into her mouth to suck off the blood, ignoring the metallic taste, and picked the pen back up, setting it to the paper and writing a few words. When the blood was gone, she curled her hand into her hair, her fingers winding about the strands.

"Aria," her parents called, from somewhere outside of her room, where she stayed holed up in so often. "Come meet Michael. He's come to stay for a few weeks."

Michael was a dark haired young man, stunningly attractive, and as single as could be. His brown eyes were the color of chocolate, and she couldn't deny it.

She liked him. At least when she first met him.

He was nice at first, as he gave her all his attention, courting her as if he was a gentleman from long ago, where women wore corsets and skirts, bonnets and petticoats. Soon, he became more restless, wanting move faster and faster, but Aria didn't want that. By that time, she didn't even know if she wanted him. In fact, there were some very choice words that she would choose for him.

Stuck up. Spoiled. Poser.

He wanted her to please her parents, she realized. Wanted the Institute.

And you could say that he wanted her. Not in the way she had thought before, though. But in a 'I have you and you're mine because I say so way', where he could do anything to her and she wouldn't complain.

The final straw came when one day, forced to go out to the movies, she pushed away his every attempt to get at her, his roving hands, glances, and blatant stares. He even started tossing popcorn down her shirt, offering to help her retrieve it.

She dumped the entire rest of the bucket onto his head, standing up and stomping from the theater, picking out pieces of popcorn from her bra, and ignoring his cries of pain when the butter and oil stung at his eyes.

Then suddenly, she was the bad guy. The one who chased away the young man that her parents liked so much. Though they had always hoped that Alex would be able to take over the Institute, they had also seen Michael as a potential partner for Aria, and we're devastated when he left.

So much that they didn't even listen to her side of the story.

Paper cuts to the heart.

* * *

Another drink.

Her hands curled around his arm, and Quinn scowled, trying to shake the girl off. He held a light bottle of beer in one hand, leaning over the counter of the bar, wishing that for just a little while, she would leave him alone. It wasn't that she didn't like attention, but with her, it was just a little too much.

"Marissa, please," he heard himself beg, brushing his hair from his eyes as he looked over at her. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe."

"But you're here, Quinn," the girl replied, looking quite forlorn, as she sensed she wasn't wanted. "I just wanted to hang out with you. Can't you take care of me?"

"Not right now," he sighed, slipping his arm around her. "My parents are being sort of unreasonable. I can't be at the Institute right now. But I don't want you to be in danger, either."

"Fine. You're so tiring sometimes, Quinn," she complained, making a face and letting go of his arm. "I'll go back. But who's going to keep my from telling your folks where you are when they ask me? Perhaps I can even get your father to like me."

"I'll repay you," he promised, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, before urging her outside, back in the direction of the Institute.

He was always relieved when she left.

At first the relationship had been nice. All cutesy and lovely, everyone had thought they were just two fools in love.

He had thought so as well.

Now, he was sitting in a bar alone, fifteen years young, surrounded by many older teenagers and young men and women. All he could think about was other ways to possibly avoid her.

She was always there. Always hanging onto his arm, always up in his business, and trying to know everything about him. He couldn't stand it, and found himself lying to get away, telling her that he had other engagements.

He knew that he had to end it.

Maybe relationships just weren't for him. Maybe he was destined to be alone, spending his days with close friends but nothing more than the occasional one night stand with people he would never see again.

The thought wasn't at all too bad to him.

He signaled the waitress over, who was completely unaware to the magic trickery that made him seem older than he really was.

Another drink placed before him.

* * *

Chilly nights.

The air was cold, and Emily wrapped her arms around herself, wishing that she had worn a slightly longer dress, one that maybe covered more of her thighs and didn't leave so much exposed.

She walked quickly down the street, her heels clicking on the sidewalk as the hurried to get to her destination, a party on the more busy side of town, where it was the place to be at night.

Her parents never would have approved if they knew. In fact, they would have chased her down, dragging her by her hair back to the Institute, before locking her in her room and jamming the windows and taking away her stele.

So they couldn't possibly know.

Her nights were filled with drinking, partying, dancing, and, known as one of the ultimate party girls, she had many options of what to do after the crowd died down and people began to trickle out the doors.

She never took any of them up on their offers. Yes, she has danced, grinded, and possibly even twerked with a couple of them, as well as made out with some of them in the back halls of the house, but in all honesty, she had never any desire to go home with them.

Every person she spent more than ten minutes with would either fail to meet her expectations, or be too drunk for her to actually get to know them.

Perhaps, she was just waiting for the right guy. At least, that's what she told herself. That once the right guy came along, she would give it her everything, try her hardest to not let him get away from her.

But what did she know about true love? She surely hadn't ever been in it. Hadn't ever wanted to be, either.

Except for that one guy. Paul, wasn't it? He was the only one that she could ever have imagined staying with for an extended period of time, since they got along like best friends and rarely had arguments.

But she was moving faster than him, wanting to travel and see the world, experience new things.

He didn't.

And she considered that boring.

After ending the relationship, she went back to her old life, partying at night and fighting her parents' wish for her to train during the day.

Chilly nights were all she knew.

* * *

True love.

Percy stood outside the dimmed window, his hands tracing patterns on the frosted glass. The girl inside, a mere mundane that didn't know about the Downworld or any of the magic that existed past the realms of her simple world. He couldn't tell her, could he? That he was immortal and had powers that she might have only dreamed once in her life of. No, of course he couldn't.

He forced himself to move away from the cold surface, treading through the bushes and jumping out onto the sidewalk. Rubbing his hands together, he started down the street to the Institute where he stayed.

Heartbreak, maybe?

Or just slight disappointment?

He didn't even know the girl. She was just a young lady that he had met earlier that week, and she had become somewhat infatuated.

He knew her name, though it pained him to speak it. It was easier every time, as he gradually got used to the feeling of having to walk away in either rejection, or regaining his senses.

Better that than risk the punishment. He hadn't ever really been in trouble, usually staying on the sidelines and watching from a distance.

But then again, he hadn't ever been kissed either.

Vampires weren't his thing. Werewolves somewhat freaked him out. Shadowhunters wouldn't give him a chance.

Was the only person who would give him a second thought a mundane who could only see his glamour?

He hated the thought.

Running his hands through his hair, he leaned against the door, knocking feebly every minute or so. Didn't anyone ever think that there might be someone outside, wishing to come in?

Perhaps they were just ignoring him. He knew what they thought. Just that warlock who muddled in magic and made potions that overcomplicated everything.

The rumors flew by his head, and he held his head high to ignore them.

Wish that they weren't there. Wish that they were never said.

Finally, someone opened the door, and he stumbled inside, muttering a "Thank you," and making his way back to his room.

There was something he needed to work on.

True love only came by potions.

* * *

"Come in," Aria called to the door, placing her pen down neatly on the stack of everlasting paperwork on her desk.

Alex pushed the door open gently, peeking his head in, hair falling across his head. She realized he was in desperate need of a haircut.

"Aria, have you seen my stele?" Alex asked, looking around her room, and carefully sitting down on her bed, careful to not mess the covers.

"I haven't," she sighed, placing the papers aside and turning around to have him. She dearly loved her brother, but he was forgetful and always was losing things. "There are extras in the weapons room. If you need one, take it from there. But try not to lose it."

"Okay. Is there a green one?"

Green? Green was the color of Quinn's eyes, though she tried not to remember that fact.

"Maybe. I don't know. Why?"

"I like green," he said matter of factly, his eyes lighting up at the thought of a green stele, that he would ultimately lose. "Almost as much as you like the werewolf."

"I don't like him!" she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, hiding the automatic blush that covered her cheeks. "I mean, I do but I don't because he's like that and I'm not and he's always all... Like that."

And she was telling the truth. She don't know what she felt. In honesty, everything was dizzying. He was Quinn, by the Angel.

He was complicated.

"But you do," he stated, clasping his hands in front of him. He leaned forward and looked at her intensely. "I know you do."

"Fine," she said, removing her hands and picking up her pen again. "But it doesn't matter."

"Why? He helped me find the potato in the flowerpot," Alex grinned, standing up and running over, taking the pen from her and placing it down, wanting all of her attention to be on her. "I think he's very nice."

"He is," she laughed, looking up at him with a small smile. "But we're too different. I mean, he's really social. And I'm not... I mean... Lunch was horrible..."

She recalled the story, and her the thought of her actions made her cringe inside, wishing that she had never agreed to go with him.

"What happened?"

By the Angel... It had been so awkward.

* * *

Werewolves couldn't do anything on the week of the change, or seemed. Always having to be accompanied by someone who was responsible. What, wasn't he responsible? He'd only ever destroyed like what, his room and a couple vases and books and the wallpaper.

Not really that much at all.

She was quiet, silent almost, he noticed. It was unnerving. Not looking at him straight in the eye, acting reserved and shy. Almost as if she hadn't wanted to be there.

And who was he kidding? She probably didn't. But he wanted food, and that was it. She could deal with him for a half hour, couldn't she? And hey, she could be in his presence, looking over and observing his awesomeness.

Yes,it was a deal that benefited them both.

And plus, she was... Interesting. In a way that made him think. That made him... Try to get to know her better, as she surely wasn't going to just open up for herself.

Some people just needed a little coaxing.

And he had found out, long ago, that he was very good at getting what he wanted, both in life, in bed, and from people.

She couldn't be that hard to get through to, could she be?

It's not like she was super ugly, or anything. She wasn't half bad looking, but it's not like she was his type. At all.

No one really was.

But she was hilarious to tease, as she would instantly get red in the face a stutter, never really answering his questions or replying to a statement. It was actually quite funny to watch.

On the other hand, he didn't know what he looked for in a girl, as long as they had all the female body parts and weren't missing a limb or was a complete psychopath that might kill him in his sleep.

He guessed that she was pretty much okay in his book.

As long as she wasn't clingy, needy, or annoying, and wanting to be around him every second of the day. That was his past, and he didn't intend to relieve it.

And of course, he would never allow her to pay. He would never allow anyone else to pay for him, especially a girl.

Rules, he told himself. Rules that he always followed.

Like his no girlfriend rule.

* * *

Leaving Rio de Janeiro again had been a huge relief. Emily was surprised that her parents seemed like they might actually miss her, and for a second, she thought about staying for just a little bit longer. Still, she forced her hand to draw the portal, giving them one last smile, before disappearing into thin air.

The same thoughts had crossed her mind when she visited Hong Kong.

It was crowded. The streets were so busy, filled with the hustle and bustle of people in business suits, hands clasped around briefcases, speedwalking to get to their job on time.

The guys were attractive, too.

The guy who winked at her on the subway had sort of a sexy, disheveled look that she liked.

And the young man at the newspaper stand was clean cut, but cute in a boyish sort of way. She was in the city of opportunities, right?

Opportunities for a boyfriend, maybe?

She hadn't ever really been the serious dating sort. Besides, her parents never would have approved, unless the guy was on the cover of Shadowhunter's Weekly. The guys like Jace and Will Herondale and Jem Carstairs.

She considered her type more of the cute, rebel guy who would be close to her, but not too close.

One that might still like her after they realized that she was a little more complicated that what she seemed like. That she wasn't all she come off to be at first, and they had to keep up.

Some people called it crazy, other people called her unique in a way that wasn't common to come by.

But overall, most people called her crazy.

For instance, the fact that she was obsessed with Chinese food. That was considered weird. She had never loved it better. Her trip to Hong Kong, though short, was delightful, and she found herself having a great time trying new things.

Which was how she decided to go to New York. A new culture, a new place, new people.

The Institute was easy to find, and she went inside automatically, looking around in wonder at the sheer greatness of the building. It honestly was bigger than any other she had been in before.

"Are you the new girl?" a blonde boy asked, running over to her. He couldn't have been more than fourteen. "My sister was talking about you."

She nodded, and he motioned for her to follow him, his personality friendly and easygoing.

Yes, she would like it here.

* * *

"It's a confidence potion," Percy explained. "It'll make you do things that you're too scared to do otherwise. Make sure not to take too much of it. It'll make you much different than you usually are."

Aria took the bottle in her hands. trying a bit. The effect was instantaneous.

She even kissed him.

But both of them tried not to remember that. It had been awkward, and they both apologized after that.

"Thanks Percy," she had laughed, after talking to him a bit more. "I have some things to do, but we can catch up later, okay?"

"Sure," he had agreed, and they went their separate ways.

He went back to work on his love potion, having a bit more inspiration than he had a half hour ago. There was hope, wasn't there?

They were friends now… Sort of? And there was that awkward part about her kissing him.

And when he fell out of the tree… He had been mortified. But she had gotten good pictures, so he was happy that he had been able to help her with that.

He always seemed to have time to think when he was working on his love potions.

Maybe that was why it never worked.

Was he always this distracted? Maybe he should just push all personal feelings aside, and focus on the task at hand.

But still, was it even possible? To play with someone's feelings to the point where they would actually fall for you, possibly never having even giving you a second thought before?

He sighed out loud, picking up a glass of orange liquid, studying it. Then, he poured a little bit of it into the green liquid, succeeding in making a very nasty brown colored drink.

Dumping it out again, he set the beaker down, picking up one of his research books, and flipping through the pages.

He wondered if he could make a reverse sort of the love potion. One that he could give to Aria, and solve all of her Quinn problems. She had admitted that she liked him, but yet, why was it that he hated him? Was it just because she liked him?

No, it was probably because of his hatred of warlocks, and the rude way he treated him.

Aria would probably hate him too, if he made her not like Quinn anymore, but she would never know the truth.

It wasn't nice to play with other people's feelings for one's own benefit.

How many times did he have to tell himself that?

* * *

She was always sad now. Alex clasped his hands together, sitting in his room, wondering what to do with Aria. It was all the werewolf's fault. Perhaps, if he asked, he might get Aria to hate him. Maybe he could say that he was dating the brown haired girl who always brought home food and put it into the fridge.

He liked her taste in food.

Besides, she was pretty, wasn't she? He thought that Quinn thought so.

He hated to see Aria sad. She wasn't fun anymore. She used to be so nice, always hanging out with him and laughing, but now, though he still saw her a lot, she never had that same personality.

And he missed it.

Jumping up from his bed, he went to find Quinn.

"Can't you make Aria hate you?" he asked, his eyes wide as he stared up at the guy who had helped him find a potato in a flowerpot.

"Now, why would I do that?" Quinn replied, a confused look on his face. "I don't hate her."

"But you make her sad." He tried to explain. "Can't you see that?"

"Listen, I won't do that," Quinn said, pressing a hand to his forehead. "That's not nice. Besides, she can always go have the warlock. It's obvious that he's in love with her."

"But she doesn't like the warlock!" he yelled, running off to who knows where.  
No one would understand.

Aria didn't understand.

Quinn didn't either.

Percy couldn't.

And the brown haired girl could fix everything, right?

"Do you know Quinn?" he asked her, standing in her doorway. She was wearing some weird bikini swimsuit dress thing, and he focused on her face, as she was a bit taller than he was.

"Not well. Just a little bit," she shrugged. "Why?"

"Will you help me?"

"How?" she drew her eyebrows together, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Fall for him. Make him like you. Make him not like my sister. Don't you like him even the slightest bit?"

"Well, he's nice," she laughed, edging the door shut slowly, wanting to go back to sleep. "And I'll get to know him. No promises, though."

"Really?" Alex grinned, practically jumping up and down. "Thank you!"

"No problem."

* * *

And that's how the love triangle started.

Well, it wasn't really a love triangle.

It was more complicated than trying to pick all the seeds out of a single raspberry.

Practically impossible.

And in the end, there would be a happy ending for only one person.

I doubt you can guess who it was.

* * *

**GAH... Um. let me explain... **

**So... I sort of lost motivation in the middle... Because I didn't know what to do with the story line... So I sort of jumped around and screwed things over...  
**

**But the first two thirds was good... Then I was like, I don't know what to now... And then I just put in the ending because I felt like it...  
**

**Whoops. **

**I'll redo this someday. Or just start a different story. Or write my original story. Maybe.  
**

**And it'll be much better... **

**Hopefully. **

**Sorry that it's confusing. **

**And that I fudged the personalities of the characters. **

**And the events from the rp were twisted and weird. **

**And for any mistakes because I didn't proofread this. **

**And that the sentence structure was super bad.**

**And that I started so many sentenced with the word "And".**

**And if you didn't understand it. **

**And and and and and and and and - Okay, I'm done. **

**Oops. **

**~Jillessa Heronstairs~**


End file.
